


Read My Mind

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa Week 2020, Clexa Week 2020: Day 7, F/F, Fluff, Humor, IT'S SO FLUFFY!!!, Magic, and hey you might learn a couple of magic tricks, clarke's mind is pretty green, hot bartender lexa, useless bisexual clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: Clarke’s been crushing on the hot bartender for months, years even, but she’s never actually had a real conversation with her. Not like that’s stopped Clarke’s mind from running wild, fantasizing about a life and… other things with Lexa freaking Woods.And when said hot bartender interrupts Clarke’s magnificent mind reading trick to win free drinks from her friends, she’s forced to actually talk to the woman who constantly runs through her mind…This should go well.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 112
Kudos: 707
Collections: Clexaweek2020





	1. The One in Which Clarke Is Living Proof That Bisexual Panic Is Real

“As you can see, there’s no way I can see through the napkin.” Clarke waves the it over the table, casually showing her tipsy friends the very blank, very white backside of a paper napkin.

“Harper, you could have picked any word you wanted, right? We didn’t talk before this, set up some elaborate story?”

“Nope. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Okay, let’s ball this up here, so I can get a feeling of the word.” Clarke crumples the napkin into her fist. “I’m getting…” She flutters her eyes, a perfect impression of Trinity in _The Matrix_ , which is a bit overdramatic but sometimes close up magic calls for a little flair. 

“A color,” Clarke smiles. “A cool color, like trees, maybe.”

Harper leans forward, giving away instantly that she’s on the right track. Even Raven perks up a bit, so Clarke continues with her elaborate act. “Wait. It’s not just a color. There’s something more. You wrote two words down!” Clarke clicks her tongue, playfully chastising Harper. “Trying to trick me?”

Harper’s cheeks flush a little. And right at the moment, the smoking hot bartender Clarke somehow completely missed when they walked in, swoops in, interrupts her splendid trick, and leans against the wooden bar, putting her slim yet toned arms on display, and effectively pulls a considerable blush from Clarke. 

“How’s everyone doing? Can I get another round started?”

Clarke stutters, gripping the balled-up napkin as her palms sweat. Because it’s Lexa Woods. The one and only. The most gorgeous woman Clarke’s ever had the misfortune to meet.

And it is a misfortune because how often does she get what she wants? Like actually wants. Hardly ever. That’s how often. Because fate doesn’t take sides. There is no polytheistic mythical hierarchy she could pray to in order to gain favor. She just has to rely on her good old self to get what she wants.

And right now, that traitor is shaking her head, silent as the tv on mute, dopiest grin on the planet, at the one person she really, really has a massive crush on.

Lexa smiles softly at her, _the angel on earth_ , and turns her attention to Clarke’s friends. “How about you?”

“Depends on the outcome of this bet!” Raven shouts, her too loud tone a dead giveaway to her level of intoxication.

Attention clearly piqued, Lexa inclines her head, unintentionally putting that killer jawline on full display, and Clarke gulps, desperate to swallow down the sudden lust-lump in her throat.

“Clarke, here-” Raven throws her arm around Clarke’s shoulder, pulling her so close so quickly, Clarke nearly falls off the barstool she’s perched on. But Raven either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, probably the latter, and continues without missing a beat “-bet us that she can read Harper’s mind.” 

Lexa’s eyebrows shoot to the roof, and she then turns, slow and teasing towards Clarke. She smirks. 

And holy hell, Clarke can not even form coherent thoughts. Has there ever been a more alluring little smile in the universe? She thinks not. That half-upturn of those full lips might as well have been an on switch to her libido because Clarke suddenly can not think of anything else but those lips on hers and how they might look as they wrap around sounds of pleasure. 

Yeah, okay, maybe she could form coherent thoughts, but they definitely weren’t helping keep her cool and calm and collected in front of her crush.

“You can read minds?”

That melodic voice thankfully pulls Clarke from her spiral of increasingly inappropriate thoughts and into the present. Apparently still mute, Clarke merely shrugs. 

After a quick glance around the bar, which Clarke can’t help but follow, and finding all the other patrons happy and well-hydrated, or as well-hydrated as a person can be while drinking alcohol. And hey, yeah, Clarke knows alcohol is a diuretic and literally dehydrates the consumer of said alcoholic beverages - she’s a pre-med student for crying out loud. But it’s her mind, so let it make the loose metaphors it wants to make. Okay?

Okay. Moving on.

After that quick glance around the bar, Lexa crosses her arms over her chest and pops her head to the side in a way that is entirely too seductive to be legal and smirks, “Let’s see it then.”

_Fuck_. Clarke has to get it together. Not only is her wallet counting on her, now she has an audience with the hottest, sweetest, smartest person she’s ever met. _Double fuck_. And Lexa’s just smiling at her, her ears pinking a little, and it’s the cutest thing Clarke has ever seen. _Triple fuck_.

Clarke clears her throat, willing her mind, body, and soul to get back to their pre-hot bartender arrival states and finish the damn trick already. “Two words,” she nods. “That’s where we were. A color and something more. A name.”

Harper shifts a little, and her discomfort feeds Clarke’s ego. She puts on a little show. “A name that starts with… W. No, flip that. An M.”

Clarke hands the crumpled napkin to Raven, declaring loudly and proudly, “Monty Green.”

Raven unravels it, hanging her head low in defeat when she reads Harper’s handwriting. “Fuck-” She throws the napkin at Harper. “She’s right.”

“And now you owe me drinks!” Clarke sing-songs as she pumps her fist in the air. “For the rest of the night.”

Raven sulks deep into her barstool, and Harper tries and fails, to calm the fire in her cheeks, ignited undoubtedly from writing the object of her not-so-unrequited love fantasies on the paper napkin. At that moment, Clarke’s just proud she pulled the trick off.

“Impressive.” 

_Oh god_. Lexa. 

In her post-successful trick euphoria, Clarke completely forgot Lexa freaking Woods is standing right there. Lexa leans closer, lowering her voice to a near-fatal level of sexy quiet and taps Clarke’s locked and face-up phone resting on the bar top.

And she’s so close, so far into Clarke’s personal bubble that Clarke can smell the soft floral scent of roses on her subtle yet superb perfume. Her heart stutters.

“It’s like you could read exactly what was written on the napkin. Like you saw a perfect reflection of the words.”

Lexa taps the black-mirrored screen again and stands back with a knowing smirk. Clarke’s cheeks ignite in a brilliant display of corals and crimsons. Lexa figured out her trick. Dammit. Lexa figured out the trick! If Raven finds out, she’ll never hear the end of it, and she definitely won’t get these free drinks she’s now looking forward to.

“Don’t worry,” Lexa leans close again. “I won’t tell them your secret.”

The way she crosses her arms and raises that beautiful eyebrow - damn, Clarke has never realized that eyebrows can be beautiful, but here she is mentally rambling about Lexa’s gorgeous eyebrows - and it all just screams smugness. Clarke, despite her wild attraction to the woman, can not and will not back down in the face of such arrogance. It’s just part of her DNA. 

“What secret?” Clarke feigns innocent, completely unwilling to admit that Lexa figured her out by only watching the last half of the trick. Hell, she wasn’t even standing nearby when Clarke had waved that napkin over the perfectly unsuspecting mirror and read what Harper wrote before balling it up in her fist.

Lexa’s face twists into that little smile of disbelief. She glances down at Clarke’s phone, rolling her eyes in a grand circle, and leans in again. “Magic exists,” she breathes. “But you don’t have it.”

“You sound so certain.”

“I am.” Lexa backs away suddenly. “It’s an impressive show though, as I said. You’ve got the act down. I almost believed you.”

A patron walks into the bar, saving Clarke, and apparently Lexa, from the rest of their conversation. 

“Another round?” The suddenly all business bartender smiles. “Seeing as how you’re not paying, I suggest calling your liquor this time. The well is not bad, but Grey Goose is much nicer.”

“Okay. Grey Goose and soda, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Ever professional, Lexa greets the new customer while expertly mixing Clarke’s drink. Their fingers brush as the cool glass slides from Lexa’s hand to Clarke’s, and a shiver, intense and electric shoots through Clarke’s entire body. And yeah, Lexa is right. Magic does exist.

*******

_Fuck_. 

Clarke must have slept with someone’s spouse in a past life because the universe hates her. Not only did she set her alarm for PM instead of AM last night and barely woke in time to sprint halfway across campus to her 8AM lab, but in her haste to make it on time, she most definitely forgot to check the weather. 

And now, as her classmates shuffle past her, Clarke glares out the window. The heavens themselves have split open, dumping freezing rain so fast and hard she can barely see the weird modern art statue that was donated by the senior class ten years ago that’s supposed to represent hope for the future but really just looks like an immature senior male’s idea of an anatomical joke.

Not the biggest fan of getting drenched in the middle of winter, Clarke would normally just wait it out, study for her next class or something while the storm calmed, but of course, she has somewhere to be. A meeting. With her advisor about her future that she really can’t afford to reschedule yet again.

She’ll just have to make a run for it and hope that she is quicker than the torrential rain. A lofty wish.

Clarke pushes open the door, the rushing water drowning out all other sounds, and takes a deep breath before starting her sprint.

She 100% does not hear someone shouting her name. And she definitely doesn’t see said person until she is lying on top of them. In the rain. Face heating despite the freezing water dumping on her.

“Shit. Lexa,” Clarke scrambles to her feet, wrapping her soaked coat around her. “I didn’t see you.”

Lexa stands, graceful - of course she is, she’s Lexa freaking Woods - and grabs her now very broken umbrella before dragging Clarke under an awning. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her face reddening in shame, and Clarke fights to not wipe that worry away with a kiss. “I called your name so I could walk you to class, but then you started to run, and-”

“I ran right into you.” Clarke grimaces. “I’m so sorry. You were just trying to be nice, and now you have a broken umbrella. And you’re soaked.” Clarke’s gaze flicks down Lexa’s whole body. The wet material of her jeans hugs her legs even tighter, showing off how lean and toned she is despite her small frame. Her light sweater sags with its new weight, pulling down enough to expose a perfect clavicle. Water droplets gather in the hollow of her neck, and dear lord, all Clarke wants to do is gather up that water with her tongue.

A wave of goosebumps covers every inch of Lexa’s skin, and she shivers, wrapping her arms around her chest. The movement draws Clarke’s gaze, and for the love of Halsey, Lexa’s cold. Like really cold.

Clarke doesn’t even fight the growing flush on her cheeks. It’s futile at this point. Clearly a walking disaster in such perfect company. She slams her eyes shut, begging her lack of vision to be enough to shut her brain off.

“Are you okay, Clarke?”

At the sound of Lexa’s voice, Clarke peeks one eye open, using every bit of self-control to keep her gaze above Lexa’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Clarke squeaks. She clears her throat to regain some form of control over her vocal cords. “Yes, I just feel awful for getting you all wet.”

If the ground could just open up, right then and there, Clarke would be eternally grateful. It’s such a horrible joke. Base level, unsophisticated, unoriginal. And it isn’t even supposed to be a joke. She is genuinely remorseful for basically tackling the woman, but now all that’s on her mind is that stupidly immature double entendre. 

And dammit. Just the thought of it is pulling a deep twinge of desire from the depths of her core. Clarke’s body temperature rises, and a burst of goosebumps peppers her skin that has nothing to do with the cold water dripping from her body to a potentially dangerous puddle on the tiled floor of the entryway. She really should notify someone or maybe find a janitorial closet and pop up one of those CAUTION WET FLOOR signs before some unsuspecting freshman sprints in and lands on their ass.

Clarke shakes her head, a desperate attempt to get her mind back on track, but all she accomplishes is sprinkling Lexa with more cold water. But before she can apologize, again, Lexa pulls a soft sort of smirk on her lips.

She shrugs, “Looks like we’re both wet.”

And Clarke’s heart skips a beat. There is no way Lexa means anything more than the surface level of those words, right?

She’s standing there, smirking, and Lexa is just so… _Lexa_. And she’s staring at Clarke, and Clarke’s staring back. There is mutual staring going on, and it’s making Clarke more and more bothered by the microsecond. It’s electric and scary yet perfect and calming. Clarke has no idea what’s going on, but she doesn’t want it ever to stop.

And the giant clock in the lobby chimes on the hour, like, well, clockwork, and Clarke’s stomach drops.

“I really have to go,” Clarke sighs, half disappointed that their charged moment is gone, half dreading the look on her advisor’s face when she walks in soaking wet and very very late. “I’m late for a meeting with Dr. Peska. Thank you for trying to be all sweet and knight-in-shining-armor-esqe. I’m sorry I’m a klutz. I’ll get you a new umbrella. I promise!”

Clarke turns and takes off without waiting for a response because Lexa’s just smirking at her little ramble, and Clarke can’t stop looking at her lips. They’re just right there and full and perfect and probably so soft. 

And why are her eyes so vibrant yet gentle and magical? Clarke could get lost swimming in that gray-green ocean in the middle of the night and not care if she ever saw another living soul because Lexa’s warmth and kindness were enough. 

Jesus-fucking-Christ, Clarke is living proof that bisexual panic is real and good god, she just really needs to get as far away from Lexa as possible.

Clarke hunkers down, bracing her body as the freezing wet soaks through her already drenched clothes, cursing her stupid brain for its complete lack of chill in the presence of a pretty woman. 

_Fuck_. 

In her haste to salvage a bit of her dignity, she forgot to say goodbye! Lexa probably thinks she’s a total spaz or worse, completely uninterested… 

“I’ll see you later, Clarke!” 

And Clarke almost smacks headfirst into the damn phallic statue.


	2. The One in Which Clarke Dissolves into an Inarticulate Pile of Goo

Their local haunt is a little busier than usual, no doubt because of the epic win the women’s soccer team scored this evening. Everyone seems to be out celebrating, but Clarke managed to snag seats at the end of the bar. Perfectly lined up to watch that body, flawless in tight denim and a black tank top, sling drinks to the herd of twenty-something-year-olds flocking in like the great gay migration. 

Because now that she’s looking, all the people crowded down by Lexa’s side of the bar are women. Gorgeous women, most of whom Clarke recognizes from the LGBTQ+ group she founded with Raven their freshman year, Queers United for Everything for all EterNity, or QUEEN. 

The acronym is a stretch. She knows it, but it was the best their eighteen-year-old selves could come up with, and they really just liked the idea of a club full of all manner of queens.

But that’s getting off-topic. What is more pressing is all these women blatantly flirting with Lexa. Her Lexa. Although she isn’t _hers_ , exactly. That’s an archaic way to think about relationships, but dammit. She likes Lexa, and she’s pretty sure Lexa likes her. There had been mutual lingered looks and not so subtle hair tosses between the two over the past few weeks.

And now these women are eating up her time. No. This won’t do. 

Not when Clarke is two vodka sodas deep and feeling pretty damn confident in her simple ensemble of black jeans and screaming red top that cuts deliciously low without being obnoxious that she most definitely just threw on without much thought and in no way spent forty-five minutes trying to match the perfect “not trying too hard” makeup look to go with the casual outfit.

Clarke gulps down the last of her drink, and empty glass in hand, hops off her stool.

“Hey, Griff! Where are you going?” Raven shouts over the cacophony of young people getting more inebriated and louder by the second.

Clarke waves her empty glass in the air. “To get a refill.”

“The bartender will be by in a second. You don’t have to go over there. Perks of sitting at the bar.” Raven gestures grandly to their little group of barstools.

“It’ll be faster if I just go over there.”

Raven cranes her neck, locking in on the woman of Clarke’s affections. She levels Clarke with a knowing look, “Are you that thirsty, or are you that _thirsty_?“

“Shut up, Raven.”

And before Raven’s annoyingly accurate question can deter her, Clarke pushes her way to the front of the bar, through a gaggle of warm bodies, and stops right in front of Lexa.

“Clarke?” Lexa startles as she hands the drinks she just mixed to some waiting patrons.

Clarke smiles her best sultry smile. “Hi,” she coos and slides her glass forward, careful to keep her fingers where Lexa will definitely touch them as she reaches for it. “Vodka soda, please.”

Lexa takes Clarke’s glass without hesitation, placing it in the sink and filling a clean one with ice. “Is Murphy not taking care of you?”

“Oh, he is.” 

_He’s just not you._

Lexa’s lips quirk up, and a mass of warmth detonates in Clarke’s chest. She props her chin in her hand, leaning heavily across the wooden bar top. 

“Just prefer my superior mixology methods?” 

Lexa moves with the grace of a ballet dancer, and Clarke is mesmerized. She makes slinging drinks look like a perfect piece of art. Hell, she’d make anything, even the mundane tasks of life look like priceless art. So Clarke lets out this little sigh that she prays Lexa can’t hear over the chatter of the bar and mumbles, “Something like that.”

“You look nice tonight.” 

Clarke hears the groans and eye rolls of all of Lexa’s pursuers, but she doesn’t care. If Lexa wants to compliment her, dammit, she’ll take it. Her heart’s soaring so high above the stratosphere their grumbles of jealously fade away before they have any real impact.

“So do you,” Clarke quickly adds, nodding towards Lexa.

Lexa laughs, grabbing the bottle of well vodka. She pours it with familiarity and ease. “At least I can wear my own jeans here. Last summer, I worked at a bar in this swanky hotel, and they made the women wear these terrible grey pencil skirts that were an absolute nightmare to squat in. And while I can appreciate the body-con aesthetic on the right woman every once in a while, the person who decided skin-tight skirts made for good working uniforms should be thrown in the deepest corner of hell.”

Lexa slides Clarke’s drink to her. “I added it to your tab,” she smiles.

But Clarke isn’t paying attention to what Lexa’s saying because her overactive imagination is running wild. 

A pencil skirt. So soft and tight as she pushes it up Lexa’s long, lean legs after backing her up against the bar. That fabric, pulling and resisting as she inches it higher and higher until it bunches around Lexa’s waist, and Clarke hoists one of those muscular legs up and around her own hips, nestling herself right in between. She leans in, savoring the subtle perfume that caresses the soft skin of Lexa’s neck. Clarke runs her tongue along that sharp jaw, and-

“Clarke?” Lexa’s cheeks glow a brilliant pink, and she gestures at the decent line forming behind her.

Clarke grimaces internally but gives what she hopes is a sheepish and apologetic smile. It’s so wrong to objectify Lexa like this, even in her mind, but it seems increasingly unavoidable in her presence. Lexa is just that beautiful. That perfect. That irresistible. Inside and out, and Clarke is so head over heels smitten that she just wants to devour her.

But also spend hours curled up on the couch just reading while Lexa rests her feet in her lap. And maybe every once in a while, Clarke would set her book down and massage Lexa’s feet, tired and sore from standing behind the bar all night. She’d get up and make a cup of Lexa’s favorite tea and offer it to her just the way she likes. Lexa would smile softly, no need to say anything out loud because Clarke would be able to see the love and appreciation written in those soft eyes, the gentle upturn of the corner of her lips and-

“Clarke? I’m sorry, but I need to-” Lexa’s blushing as she interrupts Clarke’s thoughts yet again. The whispered sort of smile that plays on her lips speaks volumes. She doesn’t want Clarke to leave, but she’s at work, and Clarke has definitely taken up more time than any other customer so far. 

Dammit. Even when she’s telling Clarke to bugger off, she’s kind and flawless. So Clarke finally takes her drink, gives Lexa another apologetic smile, and walks back over to her friends.

A slow clap echoes in her ear, led by a thoroughly amused Raven, and Clarke kind of wants to die. Or at least have the earth open up and swallow her whole, because, of course, her group of friends watched the whole debacle. They indubitably were a witness to Lexa so sweetly, but most definitely, shutting her down.

Clarke slumps down in her stool and hides behind her vodka soda. She does her best to ignore the burning gazes and the choked-back giggles and mumbles into her ice-cold and perfectly mixed drink, “Shut up, Raven.”

*******

“Hi, Clarke.”

Clarke peeks over her book, eyes wide with surprise.

Lexa smiles softly. “May I join you?”

Clarke stumbles to get her feet off the chair, slamming her boots to the ground with a dull thud. She grimaces at the loud and unwanted sound. 

But fuck yes, Lexa could join her! But also fuck no, why did she have to be such a spaz every time Lexa was near?

“Of course,” Clarke manages to sound so chill despite the pounding of her heart. She grabs her shoulder bag from the other chair, hanging it over her own to make room for Lexa.

Lexa slides in, her hands wrapped almost defensively around her travel cup.

“Do you-”

“What are you-”

Lexa laughs at the same time as Clarke, and their mutual giggles are absolutely melodic. Good lord, can she be any more perfect?

“You go first,” Lexa nods.

“I was just going to ask what you are drinking,” Clarke steadies her mind enough to speak real sentences. “My thrilling attempt at an icebreaker.”

Lexa fidgets with her mug. “It’s plain black tea. Boring according to some, but it’s my favorite.”

Clarke bites her bottom lip, suppressing the manic grin about to burst forth as she plays with the tag of her own black tea bag. “Mine too. But I gotta sweeten it up with honey. And a splash of milk.”

Lexa wrinkles her nose, and it’s the cutest thing Clarke’s ever seen. “Milk masks the flavor.”

“Milk reduces the bitterness.” Clarke slides her own cup forward. “And it’s sweet.” 

Lexa stares at the mug for what seems to be an eternity. _Oh, no_. She overstepped. Maybe Lexa is one of those people who absolutely hates sharing a few germs with strangers. And Clarke is very much so, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. What was she thinking? Offering her own tea to Lexa like some sort of crazy person? She’s barely shared ten uninterrupted minutes with the woman over the past few years, yet here she is, asking this person to chuck all normal levels of personal boundaries out the damn window and drink from her cup.

But then, Lexa smiles, and very hesitantly, takes a sip.

She’s silent for a moment, her face a blank slate, and Clarke fidgets in her seat, picking at that one cuticle on her finger she should have taken care of this morning before heading to class.

“And?” Clarke breaks the tension, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer.

“It’s…” Lexa tilts her head to the side. “Not bad.”

“Told you,” Clarke winks, and she isn’t sure if that’s the right thing to do, but then Lexa smiles and stifles her chuckle, and yeah, it’s right.

This little silence falls between them, and Clarke starts to panic because maybe she’s too dull. Or maybe Lexa’s expecting this great conversationalist. And Clarke is typically able to talk to anyone, even someone she’s entirely smitten with, despite her internal panics, but Lexa caught her by surprise. She was just reading, utterly lost in her little world…

And now Lexa is here and looking at her, expectantly, and dammit, say something, Clarke! Say anything! Don’t let this gorgeous creature get up and walk away. Not when this is the first time you’ve both been free to just talk and finally get to know one another. 

For fuck’s sake, Clarke! Stop being so weird!

“What book are you reading?”

Clarke breathes again.

She takes only a moment to calm her thoughts, smiling gratefully at Lexa’s timely save. She slides her book closer to Lexa, letting her admire the artwork on the cover.

“ _Heathen_ ,” Clarke grins. “By Natasha Alterici.”

Lexa opens the book, flipping through the pages, her eyebrows rising in intrigue or surprise, Clarke isn’t sure.

“Basically, Aydis is this awesome Viking who goes on a quest to save the Valkyrie Brynhild, but not everything is as it seems, of course, and she winds up on this adventure to end Odin.”

“Odin?” Lexa sets the book back down. “Odin, the King of Asgard? That Odin?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“The artwork looks gorgeous.”

_You’re gorgeous._

“You can borrow it if you’d like.”

“Really?” Lexa touches the book, reverent and giddy.

“Of course!” Clarke beams. Of course, Lexa can borrow her book. It not only is a perfect excuse to meet up again when she eventually has to return it, but that look on her face - the unadulterated glee and excitement - yeah, Clarke will do just about anything to see that look over and over again.

“Thank you,” Lexa whispers. She sets the book to the side and props her chin in her hand. “You’re very kind.”

Clarke’s cheeks heat instantly, and she rushes to brush hair behind her ear, hopeful that the movement will distract Lexa from her embarrassingly bright blush. Jesus, she can’t even take a simple compliment without dissolving into an inarticulate pile of goo.

“I’m not that kind,” Clarke grimaces. She really isn’t. All those times she’s thought of Lexa’s lips, her body, her skin. Oh, god, her soft, sultry skin - pressed up against Clarke’s, warm and supple, as they slide together, touching and- 

_Fuck_. No, not again. Clarke shakes her head and focuses instead on that adorable little half-smirk Lexa’s perfected. She nearly jumps out of her skin when Lexa slides her hand across the table, placing it atop Clarke’s, and squeezes. 

“You really are kind, Clarke. No matter what you think.”


	3. The One in Which Clarke Internally Screams

Clarke stares at herself in the hallway mirror for the thousandth time in the past ten minutes. Her makeup is still clean and subtle, just a hint of effort. Perfect. 

She tugs at the hem of her henley, turning slightly to the side, checking out the silhouette the tight shirt gives her. It’s nice. It manages to show off her curves without being overly in your face, and the buttons actually button up to an appropriate height, which considering her chest size, is a miracle. 

She really should check out if this brand makes more shirts. It’s so rare to find ones that aren’t too tight or too showy or actually close up without the buttons threatening to pop off with the slightest movement and accidentally blind someone as the cursed closure flies through the air and lands right in the middle of an eye.

Maybe she should ditch the whole premed thing and focus on design and business so she could start a brand of clothing marketed towards the plus-sized boob crowd. Surely there are enough women with this problem to make a living, and Raven’s handy with computers and programming. She could make a kick-ass app to go with the brand. It’d only take a minimal amount of begging, and perhaps a few promised favors to get her to do it for free. 

Big-breasted women unite!

She should write that down. It’d make a sweet tagline-

“Earth to Clarke!”

Clarke whips around, avoiding a collision with her roommate’s head by inches.

“Jesus, Raven!” Clarke clutches at her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so taken by your own reflection, you’d’ve heard me two minutes ago.”

“I’m not taken by my own reflection.” Clarke straightens her shirt again, glancing at the mirror to make sure everything still looks perfect.

“Oh, sorry. Allow me to rephrase. I wouldn’t have scared you if you weren’t freaking out about your appearance when all Lexa is doing is stopping by so she can return a damn book!”

Raven’s shoulders drop low in what Clarke hopes is sympathy. Her roommate steps forward, tucking a bit of Clarke’s hair behind her ear on one side, adjusting it on the other. 

“There, nerd,” Raven sighs. “You look good. If Lexa doesn’t offer to take you to dinner, I will.”

Clarke’s whole body relaxes, just a fraction, as Raven skips off to her room. Before the door closes, Raven shouts, “But you’re paying! And I’m not a cheap date!”

She shakes her head. Raven really is the best.

Clarke’s heart promptly stops at three thirty-four PM, central standard time. 

The knock is light yet purposeful, a rhythmic rapping that echoes loudly in her small apartment, and when she pushes open the door, she’s met with the glowing, gorgeous person she’s been thinking about for the past week.

“Hey, Lexa.”

“Hi.” 

Lexa has her book tucked neatly in her folded arms as she rocks ever so slightly back and forth on her heels, and for the first time in their very brief courtship - if this even is a courtship. And who the hell still uses words like _courtship_? Like is that even a thing anymore? Do people actively try to court one another in this day and age? They sort of do. It’s just much more digitally assisted and DM sliding and less knocking on a door and just sitting on the porch while an overly protective and quite frankly, overly patriarchal, father chaperones the event.

Old times were weird.

How did she get on this tangent? Oh, right. Lexa, looking nervous. For the first time, Lexa looks nervous to be in her presence. 

A pink glow fades from Lexa’s cheeks right to the tips of her ears, and Clarke’s heart flutters. Those tiny ears. So. Fucking. Cute.

Lexa tucks a loose strand of hair behind said tiny ear before offering Clarke her book back. 

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it.” And Lexa’s posture straightens. She smiles big and wide. “It was beautifully drawn, and I think I now have a huge crush on Freyja.”

“Omigod,” Clarke groans, and she grabs Lexa’s wrist without thought, pulling her into her apartment. “When she kisses Aydis-”

“And tells her that she’s loved-”

“I melted.”

“Me too.”

Clarke’s smile falters because she just realizes that she basically kidnapped Lexa, and now they’re sitting on her couch, gushing about a fictional Nordic goddess, and they’re so close their thighs are brushing. There’s this warmth radiating off Lexa, and it feels so so good that she wants to swim in this sense of security and contentment forever.

“So this is where you live,” Lexa breaks the silence. She’s staring right at Clarke with this quirky little grin, and there’s something there. Something behind her twinkling eyes. But Clarke can’t figure it out.

“Yep,” Clarke gestures to her modest living room. “Just me and my roommate, Raven.”

“Oh!” Lexa lights up. “The one from whom I kept your secret.”

“Secret? What secret?” Clarke gasps, grasping at her chest in a most dramatic fake-appalled gesture. “I can totally read minds. No tricks needed.”

Lexa giggles at her antics, and Clarke’s heart basically bursts in her chest. That laugh is so pure and beautiful. Dammit. She really does want to hear it every day for the rest of her life. 

What a life it would be. Coming home to Lexa every evening, bragging about her triumphs at work or lamenting her failures, and having this woman, this sweet and knowing and gorgeous woman, there to partake in her joy or help her through her sorrow. And she’d offer the same comfort willingly. Just being able to pull a smile from those lips when Lexa felt down or keeping her spirits high when she’s having a good day. Damn, yeah. That’d be the life.

“I’m pretty sure I told you that you didn’t have magic.”

Clarke takes a quick breath, getting her mind back in the present. “Not all magic has to be mystical, Lexa. Sometimes it’s simple. A little touch-” Clarke reaches for Lexa’s hand, tangling their fingers together. She’s not sure where this confidence is coming from, but it’s a pleasant turn from her previous lack of chill, and Lexa’s little hitch of breath is everything, so she just rolls with it. “Just a little squeeze can ignite the butterflies.”

And there they go, flittering away.

As Lexa smiles softly and traces her thumb across the back of Clarke’s hand, adrenaline courses into her bloodstream. Her heart rate increases, pounding like crazy against her ribs, so loud, she’s terrified Lexa can hear it. Blood flow redirects to her lungs and muscles, and her stomach flutters with its new lack of blood. 

Damn, premed brain logic-ing the reality of butterflies…

But that’s all still pretty magical in the grand scheme of things. The existence of life itself is basically a miracle, and Clarke relishes in the way Lexa keeps eye contact with her. With any other person, Clarke would have found an excuse to look away about five seconds ago, but there’s that thing again. That sense of wonder and hope mixed in with comfort and dare she say… _magic_ , hidden behind those green eyes, and Clarke can’t look away. 

But a door slams open, and Clarke springs away from Lexa as an overly-dramatic Latina bounces into the living room.

“Hey, Clarke! Did hot bartender-” Raven finally looks up from her phone, eyes darting to Lexa’s adorably flushed face and back to Clarke, who stares daggers at her friend, begging - nay, pleading with her to fix this. Right now.

“Ask you to dinner?” Raven trails off, so not saving Clarke in any shape, form, or fashion.

“Hello, you must be Raven.” Lexa stands from the couch with the grace and ease of Ginger Rogers and offers her hand. “I’m Lexa freaking Woods, angel on earth, sometimes known as hot bartender.”

Raven snorts as she shakes Lexa’s hand. “Looks like Griff finally found someone who can keep up with me.” She quirks her eyebrow up, smirking at Clarke. “Well done, my friend.”

“Raven,” Clarke bites out through her suddenly clenched teeth. “Aren’t you late for a lab or something?”

“It’s Monday. I have labs on Tuesday and Thursday.”

Clarke presses her lips together, widening her eyes. She gestures as discreetly as possible towards Lexa.

“Oh,” Raven drawls. “You just want to kick me out so you can have some private time with Lexa freaking Woods here.”

That’s it. Friendship with one Raven Reyes officially canceled. It was nice while it lasted.

“Omigod, Clarke!” Raven cackles. “Your face. It’s priceless.” She wipes fat tears from the corners of her eyes, and Clarke is ready to die from mortification. 

“Oh, relax-” Raven grabs her bag from the chair by the door. “I’m leaving.”

She reaches the door, and Clarke is quick to shoo her out. 

“Hey,” Raven whispers quiet enough that Lexa can’t hear it from the couch. “I know I like to give you shit, but I’m serious on the offer. If she doesn’t ask you out, we’ll treat ourselves tonight. I won’t even make you go to my fave taco truck, even though it is far superior to anything else you can put in your mouth. We can go to that Thai place you love. Just say the word, Griff. I’m here for you.”

With an obnoxious wave to Lexa who returns it with less enthusiasm but just as much sarcasm, Raven leaves. Clarke stares at the closed door for a moment, contemplating her best course of action. 

She could play it all off as Raven just being an ass, making things up to embarrass Clarke, or she could own up to it. Nothing Raven said was a lie. She wants to hang out with Lexa. She wants to go on a date with her. She wants her to want her. 

Dammit. Now that song is stuck in her head.

“You okay over there?”

Clarke sucks in a deep breath of air and turns with a smile. 

_Didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you crying?_ Curse that catchy song.

“Yeah, sorry about her. She likes to see me squirm.”

“I think it’s cute.”

Clarke plops down on the couch, graceful as an elephant, and Lexa joins her. 

_Oh, didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you crying?_

“What’s cute?”

“Your friendship with her,” Lexa smiles. “I think you’d be feeling all alone without a friend, you know- A friend like her, I mean.”

_Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel-_

Whoa, what? The song silences in Clarke’s head. The cadence of the sentence, the words… it’s eerily similar to the song. It makes Clarke’s heart skip a beat. There was something else, something when Raven came out of the room that had her spidey-senses tingling. Something Lexa said…

“I should be going.”

Lexa stands, quick as a flash, and Clarke jumps from her seat at the sudden movement.

“Oh,” is the only thing Clarke can think to say. She scrambles to find a reason for this 180. Did she say something to make Lexa suddenly so uncomfortable? Did Raven scare her? 

“I’m late-” Lexa beelines to the front hallway. “For a… meeting. With my business law TA. I just realized. Sorry.”

Lexa’s out the door before Clarke can process what she’s saying, but she chases her anyway. On a whim, because what does she have to lose when she’s apparently already ruined this lovely little afternoon, Clarke calls out after her.

“Lexa! Hey, wait.”

Clarke doesn’t breathe. Her heart stops until that chestnut hair flips around, and she’s greeted with a smile that isn’t as big or bright as it was a few minutes ago, but Clarke takes what she gets.

“Yeah?” Lexa breathes.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? After your meeting?”

Lexa worries her bottom lip, and Clarke’s palms sweat. She’s going to say no. _Fuck_. Clarke’s about to endure that bitter sting of rejection, standing in the middle of her apartment’s hallway. And she just knows her nosy neighbor is listening to this whole exchange, and she’ll hear about it for the next two weeks every time she gets the mail.

Dammit, Linda! Just mind your own business, and let Clarke wallow and eat ice cream in a post-rejection funk like a normal human being. She really doesn’t need any insincere sympathy from an eavesdropping next-door neighbor.

“Sure.”

“That’s okay. I understand- Wait,” Clarke gasps. “Did you just say yes?”

“I did,” Lexa nods. 

“Okay!” Clarke practically shouts. Lexa freaking Woods just said yes. To a dinner date. With Clarke.

Sound the bells. Bust out the fine china. Pop the champagne. This calls for a celebration! 

If Clarke were alone right now, she’d definitely be hopping up and down in the most jubilant happy dance complete with plenty of dorky and enthusiastic fist pumps. But she’s not, so the boss-ass boogie only continues in her head.

Lexa stands in the middle of the hallway, rocking on her heels again, waiting.

Waiting for what?

Dammit. She’s probably waiting for Clarke to actually make plans instead of busting out the most excellent imaginary moves of her life. _Fuck_. Choices. She really didn’t think this whole asking out her crush on a whim thing.

Now she has to plan a spectacular first date in the next two seconds. How is she supposed to handle that kind of pressure? Thai food is an option. Raven planted that lovely seed in her head earlier. It’s such a cute little restaurant in their tiny downtown. Understated decor, but the food… Ugh, the food is to die for. What that place lacks in design it makes up tenfold in delectable cuisine. 

But this is Lexa. She deserves the best. The best restaurant with the best food, the best atmosphere, Clarke in her best date outfit-

Ooh! That cute shirt she bought last week at the thrift store with Harper is just begging to be worn. And those skinny jeans that make her ass look perfect. Yeah, and the little brown Chelsea boots…

_I’ll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand new shirt…_

UGH! Damn that catchy song!

“How about Thai?”

“What?” Clarke startles from her mind, brought out yet again by Lexa.

“Thai food,” Lexa wrings her hands together, and Clarke just stares at the nervous display. “Tonight. There’s a place down on Main Street-”

“That’s my favorite place.”

“Sounds like a date then. I’ll come pick you up after my meeting. Seven okay?”

“Seven’s perfect.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

Lexa lingers for only a second before turning on her heel. When she’s completely out of sight because, of course, Clarke watched her until she was gone. Why would she not? Lexa’s sort of like staring at an impressionist painting. Lovely at first glance, gorgeous, but the longer it’s appreciated, the closer it’s inspected, all the fine details come to light. 

The seamless and impressive way all those little touches come together to make a whole. And it’s subtle. Most people can just look at the surface and appreciate the big picture, but the real beauty of it comes from the parts. The colors, the micro-expressions, they all meld together into this perfect work of art. Just like Lexa. She’s so much more than the whole outside appeal.

And thank the lord Lexa said yes to this date because Clarke’s not sure she can take much more of these elaborate metaphors for Lexa’s beauty in her head. Having a shot at actually dating the woman will be enough to shut them up, or at least quiet them down a little. She’s hoping, _begging_ …

Oh, fuck it. 

Clarke storms into her apartment and opens up her music app, quickly finding what she’s looking for.

Cheap Trick blasts through the excessive speaker system Raven insisted on, and for the first time, Clarke’s ecstatic she lost that battle. She dances around the apartment with abandon, her heart pounding with the tempo, her fists pumping with victory.

“Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying. Oh, didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you crying? Whooo!” Clarke shouts at the top of her lungs, jumping off the back of their fluffy couch into a righteous air guitar solo. 

She sticks her tongue out, head-banging to the beat, and she thanks her past-self for choosing the ‘Live at Nippon Budokan’ recording. It’s so much snappier than the original record.

“I want you to want me. I need you to need me. I’d love you to love me-”

“I take it she asked you out?”

Clarke spins around, her eyes wide in surprise, but she is way too far gone on her happy train to care that she is caught rocking out by herself. She grabs Raven by the hand, twirling her with ease.

“No!” she calls out over the chorus.

“What? Then why are you all dancing and grinning?” Raven stumbles, almost losing her footing.

“I asked her!” Clarke beams, shimmying manically in front of Raven. “And she said yes!”

*******

Clarke stares at the familiar menu. She doesn’t need to, she’s been here more times than is probably healthy, but the colorful pictures mixed with foreign and not-so-foreign words are a welcome distraction from the beauty in front of her.

Lexa taps the menu with her thumbs, the rhythm mirrored with the bounce of her foot. She bites her lip, concentrating on the selection of tasty dishes, and Clarke flicks her gaze back to the menu.

“Any idea what you’re thinking?” Clarke peeks over the top of her menu, waiting for Lexa to answer.

She’d fallen into a weird silence since they sat down, a stark difference from the effortless flirting and conversation on the ride over, and Clarke aches to get back some of that ease.

She’s terrified that Lexa has changed her mind about this little date. Is the outfit too much? Not nice enough? Clarke went for that new shirt, jeans, and boots combo, which is admittedly on the casual side, but this restaurant isn’t the fanciest place on Main Street. Perhaps she should have made a little more effort. 

Lexa looks spectacular, effortlessly glamorous in her jeans and an oversized sweater. Seriously, it hangs off her as perfectly as it would a model strutting down a runway. Her makeup is so subtle, just a touch of shadow, maybe a little mascara, but it works. It highlights her natural features, and Clarke hasn’t stopped staring since she picked her up.

But now it’s silent. And that silence is deafening.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa sighs as she sets her menu down on the table. A fresh flush creeps across her cheeks, just a light dusting, and she covers her face with her hands. “I have no idea what any of this food is. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Clarke holds back the soft chuckle with surprising self-control. Lexa is just too damn cute when she’s embarrassed. She reaches across the table, giving Lexa’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I can help. Are you a vegetarian? Any food allergies or aversions?”

Lexa shakes her head, just a little movement, back and forth once, and Clarke nods, gazing back at the menu. “Would you mind if I ordered for you?”

“Omigod-” Lexa almost laughs in relief, and Clarke doesn’t hide her smile. “Please do.”

Their waiter appears at that moment, and Clarke orders. He nods, repeats the order, and heads to the kitchen.

“So, you’ve never had Thai food before?”

“Not really, no.” 

“I think you’ll like the pad kee mao. This place is known for it.” Clarke smiles as Lexa’s shoulders finally relax. “Wait…”

Didn’t Lexa suggest this place? She swooped in while Clarke was having that internal panic about what to plan for this date, offering up this very restaurant.

“If you’ve never had Thai before, why’d you pick it?” Clarke stares into Lexa’s eyes as she waits for an answer. 

A flash of panic explodes on Lexa’s face, but before Clarke can comment on it, it’s gone. She smiles, smooth and charming, and Clarke’s heart does that little pitter-patter. “I like to try new things. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so.”

Clarke shrugs. It’s a valid answer, but something prickles in the back of her mind. A few things don’t really add up. Like, if Lexa really is interested in trying new things, why did she seem so panicked looking at the menu? Wouldn’t a person who was eager to experiment be excited by all the foreign food items?

Not that any of this matters. Clarke’s still on a date with the woman who she’s been lusting after for months, years, even. But it’s so much more than lust now. Yeah, Clarke’s noticed. She hasn’t waxed poetical about feeling Lexa’s lips or her skin or that near-perfect ass in those delicious jeans. Her fantasies are now filled with images from a future she wants. A future with Lexa in it.

This crush has effectively moved full speed ahead into real territory. The physical attraction is still there, dear lord is it still there, but she wants it all now. The mind, the soul, and the body. She just wants Lexa.

So who cares if Lexa told a little white lie? Maybe she did overhear Raven talk about her favorite restaurant. Maybe she was just trying to be sweet and nice.

Move on, Clarke. She’s still Lexa freaking Woods, angel on earth, hot bartender-

Oh, shit. No. No way. What?

When Lexa introduced herself to Raven, that’s what she called herself. _Lexa freaking Woods. Angel on earth._ Two monikers Clarke is confident, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s never used out loud. Not even with Raven. 

There’s no way Lexa would know those names. No freaking way. And they’re way too specific to be a weird little coincidence. No one calls themselves an angel on earth unless they’d heard it before, right?

And then Lexa basically sang along with Clarke when that annoyingly awesomely catchy song was stuck in her head.

And all those times Lexa seemed to save Clarke from her massive thought spirals right at the perfect moment.

There’s no way. Is there? Could Lexa-

“I have to use the restroom.”

Lexa’s chair scrapes across the tiled floor, harsh and grating, and she flees down the back hallway.

Clarke stares at the empty chair. Lexa did say, multiple times, that magic existed. She said it with such conviction, such certainty. Was she telling the truth? Is magic real? Is Lexa a witch? Is she human? Is Clarke going insane, her mind too fragile to handle getting a date with her crush, so she’s hallucinating this preposterous scenario?

Yeah, that must be it.

But Lexa figured out her mentalism trick back at the bar. And she beelined out of Clarke’s apartment when she noticed, not out loud of course, that she sang along with her. And she seemed so nervous when she suggested Thai in the hallway. And just now, she left as soon as Clarke started to connect the dots.

A body, long and lithe, eases back into the chair, and Clarke flicks her gaze up just enough to stare into Lexa’s eyes.

_Can you read my mind? Can you hear my thoughts right now?_

Lexa quirks her head to the side, staring right back, revealing nothing. She furrows her eyebrows. “Are you okay, Clarke? You’re staring at me like I have a cat sitting on my head.”

_I know you can hear me._

“Seriously, are you okay? Should I take you home?” Lexa’s voice is tinged with concern, enough to finally crack Clarke’s resolve.

She huffs and crosses her arms. “I’m fine. Are you? You sorta sprinted away just now.”

Lexa runs her long fingers through her perfectly soft hair, pushing it over her shoulder. The waves cascade, like a waterfall in slow motion, and it’s just so mesmerizing and lovely to watch.

“Yeah,” Lexa smiles. “I just needed to clear my head for a second. I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?”

“Date.”

Clarke sits up straight. Lexa doesn’t date? Why not? She’s so smart and gorgeous and funny and kind. She’s a bona fide, grade-A catch. Clarke’s seen all the women literally lining up to get a chance to talk with her.

“But you’re so… you,” Clarke grimaces. There are so many better ways to put that, but her brain has seemed to disconnect itself from her mouth. She’s as inarticulate as a fish, yet again.

“Exactly.”

Clarke tangles their fingers together again. “Well, I’m glad you made an exception for me.”

Lexa grins, her warmth seeping from her hand into Clarke’s. They’re locked in a cute little stare off, both smitten, both acting like idiots about to fall in love, and it’s pretty incredible.

Except for that nagging thing pestering Clarke with every breath. She has to know. She has to be sure.

Clarke takes a deep breath, raises her eyebrow in a daring sort of challenge, smirks… And internally screams as loud as she can. High-pitched, shrill, the kind of shriek she’d never actually bellow out loud, but for this little experiment, it’s perfect.

And Lexa flinches.


	4. The One in Which Clarke Has More Power Than She Thinks

_Holy shit._

“Holy shit,” Clarke gapes. Holy fucking shit. Whoa, fuck. 

_You can hear me!_

“Yes, Clarke,” Lexa winces as she leans across the table. Her eyes are wide open, pleading, and she gestures for Clarke to calm down. “Would it be possible for you to think a little less loudly? Please?”

Like she could. She just got confirmation that the woman she was definitely falling for could hear her thoughts. Lexa Woods: mind-reader.

And the penny drops.

Mind-reader. She’s a goddamn mind-reader. She’s heard everything. _Everything_. Clarke’s cheeks burn so hot she’s pretty sure she could smash an egg on her face, and the thing would be perfectly cooked in thirty seconds.

All those lustful fantasies. Oh, god. The pencil skirt. That fucking pencil skirt, sliding up Lexa’s legs-

Clarke buries her face behind her hands, grimacing a grimace to end all grimaces. “I am so sorry. God, I’m sorry. I can’t- There’s just no way to apologize for all the things I’ve thought about. Lexa, how can you even be on this date with me right now? I’m horrible. I’m foul-minded. Fuck. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t objectify you like that. I fucking knew it, but you’re just so damn hot, and I couldn’t switch off that part of my brain. And I’m young, and hormones. But that’s no excuse. Ugh, I hate myself.”

Lexa laughs. Belly laughs. Unhindered, pure joy, so genuine her cheeks look like they must ache from being stretched by that massive smile.

“Why are you laughing?” Clarke panics.

“You-” Lexa shakes her head, calming her giggles but leaving her manic grin in place. “You figured out my secret. My insane secret that any normal person would be freaking out about, but you’re sitting there, apologizing to me.”

“Well, I-” Clarke’s whole face furrows. “I like you.”

“I know,” Lexa winks.

And Clarke promptly face plants onto the table.

There’s a scraping sound, wood sliding on tile, and suddenly she’s wrapped up in a warm embrace. “Hey,” Lexa whispers as she rubs soothing circles on Clarke’s tense back. “It’s okay. You’re actually taking this revelation far better than I ever hoped to assume. You’re amazing, Clarke. And despite hearing all your secret thoughts, I want to know more. Because I like you too.”

“Even though I’ve thought about you naked?” Clarke mumbles into the table, still unable to face the person of her fantasies. The very person who has just inched her chair close so she could hold her, comfort her. Good lord, Lexa is terrific. And she smells like roses and amber and happiness, and-

“Clarke.” Lexa pulls at her shoulders until she sits up, and those long fingers cup her cheeks, holding her face so she can’t look away. Not that Clarke wanted to. Not when Lexa was looking at her so gently, so… lovingly. But that soft little smile quirks up, and that devastating smirk takes hold. Clarke’s cheeks heat further in Lexa’s touch. “Do you really think you’re the first person who’s thought about me naked?”

Well, fuck. She’s got a point.

But then Clarke’s whole body sags. It must be terrible to hear all the things people actually think about. All those thoughts, when people assume they’re private: scary things, sexual things, mean things, awful things. And Lexa hears them all. Lexa has to endure the worst of humanity, the parts it thinks it’s hiding. 

“Stop that right now.”

Clarke swallows the lump of sorrow in her throat and peeks into intense and fiery green eyes.

“I do hear things people would never say out loud, but I’m usually pretty good at tuning them out.”

A jolt courses through Clarke’s body, and her breath bottles in her chest. Hope.

“So…” Clarke’s hands might as well have been clasped in prayer. “You didn’t hear everything I was thinking?”

“Oh, no. I heard you.” 

“But-”

“You’re thoughts were- are very loud.” Lexa shakes her head as she bites her lip and dammit. Why does every single expression just look unfairly amazing when Lexa does it? And why is she staring at Clarke’s lips all of a sudden? Why are Lexa’s pupil’s dilating just a little? 

“If I’m honest,” Lexa lowers her voice. “I’m not sure I would want to tune them out.”

She’s leaning closer. She’s going to kiss Clarke. Oh, god. Lexa’s going to kiss her.

Clarke’s heart is thundering in her chest, but she can’t hear anything other than the slight intake of breath as Lexa parts her lips. Clarke’s lungs fill as she gasps, soft and quiet. She inches forward. Lexa’s warmth seeps into Clarke’s skin. They’re that close. But Clarke needs to be closer. Her body aches for it. 

Their lips brush-

“Pad kee mao and a green curry?”

Lexa springs away quick as a rabbit, leaving Clarke stuttering and irritated by the very rude intrusion. She glares at their smiling waiter as he sets their dinner on the table with a happy little nod, ignoring all of Clarke’s simmering anger. Lexa scoots her chair back to its original position.

Fuck. That interruption sucked. But this food smells fantastic, and despite her exasperation, Clarke’s mouth starts watering.

And now Lexa’s smirking at her, all knowing, and she raises her eyebrows in that ‘what can we do’ way, and Clarke just rolls her eyes. She spoons a portion of pad kee mao and curry on to Lexa’s plate and slides it over. “You really have an advantage over me. The power dynamics in our new little relationship here are heavily tipped in your favor.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“But that’s the thing-” Clarke points her spoon at Lexa. “I didn’t know you thought that because I can’t hear you think.”

“But you do know. I just told you.”

And while Lexa has a point, that’s _so_ not the point. 

“You have more power here than you think, Clarke,” Lexa’s voice is quiet and understated, almost like she doesn’t want Clarke to really understand that confession. Which is good for her because Clarke has no idea what she meant.

How does she have any power when the woman sitting across from her can literally hear every single thought she has? Even right now, Lexa can hear Clarke overthinking her statement. 

Clarke’s face crinkles in confusion as she stares at Lexa, trying to discern exactly what power she has, and Lexa fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, purposefully not meeting Clarke’s gaze.

_Oh_. Clarke’s confused pout brightens into a full-blown smirk. Lexa can hear everything she thinks. And she can’t do anything about it.

Clarke tilts her head to the side. She takes a deep breath and flutters her eyes closed. She plays with the necklace dangling on her chest as she fantasizes about a not too distant future.

After they finish their delectable dinner and share an ice cream creation from the shop next door, Clarke will walk Lexa back to her home. It’s only fair. Lexa picked her up after all. She can return the favor.

She’ll walk Lexa right to the door, hand in hand, smiling the whole way. Clarke will gush about what a lovely time she had, maybe throw in another little tease about Lexa and Thai food. She’ll stare at Lexa’s perfectly pouty lips, letting her know precisely what’s on her mind, and Lexa will stare back. They’ll lock eyes. Clarke will move in, parting her mouth in preparation. 

Lexa will meet her halfway. Just a slow press of lips, chaste, perfect for a first kiss. Lexa will break away first, dazed, but before she gets too far, Clarke will chase her, pinning her against the wall. Gentle first kiss long forgotten, Clarke will attack her with fervor, parting Lexa’s lips with her tongue, asking for permission that will be granted immediately. 

Clarke will then spread Lexa’s legs with her own and press in between, using her own thigh to-

“Okay,” Lexa gasps. Clarke’s eyes snap open, and she has to bite her lip to not chuckle with victory because Lexa is flushed beet red. She’s a bothered, fidgeting mess. “I think my point has been made.”

“Oh,” Clarke nods with the most sensual smile she can muster. “I can have fun with this.”

Lexa’s eyes go dark. Her blush dissolves instantly, and Clarke sits up straight, highly aroused by the smolder planted firmly and confidently on Lexa’s angular face. “It goes both ways, Clarke.”

Clarke gulps. Because _JFC_. Lexa can hear what she wants. All the time. In every situation. Every fantasy. Even in the bedroom-

Lexa winks as Clarke hides her own blush behind a huge mouthful of her iced tea.

*******

The pub is busy but not so busy they can’t find a big enough table for the group. It’s not their usual haunt, but Lexa’s with them. Harper, quite kindly, insists that whenever Lexa accompanies them on a night about town, they never got to her place of work because, “That would just be weird, Clarke! And it’s not nice to make people feel weird, and Lexa’s cool, and we should be nice to her because she’s your girlfriend.”

And yeah, Lexa’s her girlfriend. Their first kiss went exactly as Clarke had imagined. Clarke walked Lexa right up to her front door, and Lexa proceeded to tease her about her not subtle internal desire to feel Lexa pressed up against her. So Clarke silenced her by, for once in her life, not thinking and simply acting, and she leaned in and caught Lexa mid-sentence. 

The kiss was so sweet and so perfect, and it was over way before Clarke was ready. But luckily, Lexa felt the same and proceeded to tangle her fingers in Clarke’s hair and keep her close until a rather rude whooping came from the other side of the door. Turns out, Lexa lives with her sister, who was oh-so-happy her baby sis was finally making out with the girl she’d been crushing on.

Okay, so their first kiss was actually nothing like how Clarke imagined, but it was still awesome in every way. 

And who would have guessed? Lexa freaking Woods had been crushing on Clarke just as bad. Useless. The both of them. Thank the heavens for Clarke’s knowledge of close up magic and her desire to win free drinks from her friends.

Speaking of which…

Clarke leans her elbows on the table.

“Okay, Harper-”

“No!” Raven pounds the table. “Me this time. Harper picks easy things. Do me!”

Clarke shrugs one shoulder at Harper, who quite frankly looks more than relieved to not be the focus of attention. Clarke sighs as she stares her roommate in the eye. “Okay, Raven.” Clarke shuffles the deck of cards in her hand one more time and slides them across the table. “Shuffle the deck.”

With a narrowed glare, Raven scoops up the cards, shuffling thoroughly. Very thoroughly.

“Excellent-” Clarke claps her hands together. “Now, since we all know you’re a skeptic and will try to make me mess up, let’s show that deck to the table.”

Raven glares at the condescending tone, but Clarke ignores it. She’s in magic mode right now. Nothing can slow her down.

“Now,” Clarke smiles. “Fan them out. Let’s make sure you haven’t stacked the deck somehow.”

With a little huff, Raven does so, and Clarke quickly notes and memorizes the top card.

“I think we can agree that the deck is shuffled properly. What do you all say?”

Harper, Monty, and Lexa all nod in unison, and Clarke smirks at Raven. “Okay, cut the deck anywhere you’d like.” Raven follows the instructions. “Good, now take the bottom half, turn it perpendicular to the top cut, and place it right on top there.”

After Raven meticulously sets her cut on top of the rest of the deck, Clarke grins. “Perfect. Set those to the side. We’ll get back to them in a bit. Now, I’m going to take this here and make my first prediction.”

Clarke pulls a cocktail napkin towards her, and while she draws the eight of spades on it, she every so often, peeks up, scrutinizing Raven as if she’s staring through her soul. After a few more dramatic moments, Clarke finishes her drawing and folds it up. “Lexa, be a dear and put this in that empty glass for me.”

“No!” Raven shouts from across the table. “Not her! She’s your co-conspirator.”

“Fine,” Clarke shrugs. “Harper?”

Harper takes the prediction and plops it into the cup.

“Raven, I want you to say a number out loud. Any number.”

“Seven,” Raven spits out quickly.

“Everyone picks three or seven. Make it a little trickier. Go ahead. Pick a big one.”

Raven narrows her eyes and sighs. “6.02214076.” 

Monty high fives Raven from across the table.

“Okay, nerds,” Clarke smirks, knowing, but not admitting aloud that she does recognize the first part of Avogadro’s number. “Let’s do one more prediction.”

Clarke pulls another napkin from the pile and begins her drama-filled rendition of a mind-reader while she writes a seven, crosses it out, and writes down the nine-digit number. She hands it to Harper, who diligently deposits it in the glass.

“I want you to name a shape. Any shape.”

“A heart.”

“Aww, you’re secretly a sap,” Clarke teases. “Look at you, picking the symbol of love.”

“Shut up, Griff.” Raven lunges across the table, landing a firm smack to Clarke’s shoulder.

“Ow! Okay, let’s do the card prediction before Raven punches a hole through my arm.” Clarke dramatically rubs her shoulder, but it’s not really for show. Raven is much stronger than she looks. But with that smug-ass little smirk she’s sporting, Clarke’s pretty sure she knows just how hard she hit Clarke.

And now Clarke’s even more determined than before to make Raven pay for her drinks tonight. She snatches a napkin and draws her shape on it before stuffing it into the cup.

“Harper, would you kindly take that deck that Raven cut in the beginning and remove that top stack? Good, Raven, take that top card and hold it for me.”

With gusto, Raven hugs that card to her chest, and Clarke grins with triumph because there’s only one thing left to do.

“Time for the big reveal! Babe, would you like to do the honors?” Clarke hands the cup full of napkins to Lexa. She smiles, gives Clarke a little look, because duh, she’s heard the trick this whole time. She knows the secret, but she won’t tell Raven or the others, not if she doesn’t want to sleep on the couch instead of snuggled up naked tonight.

The tiny nod Clarke receives is all she needs to know that Lexa heard her loud and clear. Lexa dips her long fingers into the glass, pulling out the napkins in the perfect order, and it’s smooth. So smooth, and Clarke kinda wishes they were out at this pub alone tonight so she could just take Lexa home and have her all to herself. 

But her friends are all staring at her, and there are free drinks on the line, so Clarke pushes down her lust and addresses the group.

“Alright,” Clarke takes a calming breath. “Let’s do the card first. Lexa, reveal my prediction!”

Lexa stifles a chuckle as she unfolds the first napkin. A perfect little eight of spades stares up at the group of friends, and Raven glares. She flicks the card she’s holding on to the table, and Monty claps with glee.

“Yay, Clarke!” He giggles before slipping his hands back in his lap.

“And next, Raven, would you remind us of the number you chose?”

“Avogadro’s number.”

Lexa reveals the second napkin, and this time, Raven can’t hold back her gasp. “You even got the seven right,” she mumbles as she pulls the napkin close. She holds it right up to her face as if she needs to make sure it’s real.

Clarke’s chest burst with pride, and Lexa unfolds the last napkin. She glances at it, chuckles, and leans in for a kiss as she holds it up for the table.

Groans erupt, drowning out Harper’s sweet voice. “Oh! Cute! Look a little heart with Lexa’s name in it!”

Lexa starts to pull away with a little giggle, but Clarke’s gotten a taste of that ice-cold whiskey lingering in her mouth and holds her close. She kisses her longer, teasing her tongue along those pillow lips. Lexa’s not one for too much PDA, the fact that she even initiated this little kiss that Clarke has turned from PG to a close PG-13 is a downright miracle.

“Fuck,” Raven’s head hits the wooden table, breaking their little love trance and springy them apart. 

But Clarke’s far from annoyed. “Drinks on you tonight!” She sing-songs as she waves her hands in a ridiculous happy dance.

“Hold up-” Raven pops up from her pity party, diabolical smirk and menacing eyes in play. “Double or nothing!”

“Raven-” Clarke starts to chastise.

“Come on, hot bartender,” Raven wiggles her eyebrows at Lexa. “Show us your stuff. Read one of our minds, and we, the whole group, will cover your drinks too. If you can’t, you and your lover girl can pick up the tab.”

“Raven,” Clarke drops her voice low, hoping it sounds as intimidating as she intends. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“It’s okay, Clarke.” Long fingers wrap around Clarke’s forearm and squeeze gently. Lexa raises her eyebrow and winks. “I think I can pull something out of my sleeve.”

Well, duh. Of course she can, but Clarke’s just trying to avoid that really awkward situation where all her friends suddenly find out that she’s dating an honest to god magical person who has the ability to hear every single thing they’re thinking.

But Lexa’s still smirking at her, and Clarke is a smitten pile of mush who will agree to pretty much anything when those lips turn up just a smidgen in the corner, and that chin drops knowingly and shows off that devastating jawline. So Clarke shrugs. 

With no fanfare whatsoever, Lexa turns back to the table and levels an intimidating finger at Raven. “Okay, Raven, you’re thinking about that lady sitting at the corner of the bar.” She gestures towards the dirty blonde woman hunched over a Guinness, and Raven’s cheeks pink up. “You should just go talk to her,” Lexa whispers. “She’s into you.”

Lexa turns her gaze to Raven’s left. “Harper, you’re worried we’re going to figure out that you’re holding Monty’s hand under the table, but don’t be. Everyone thinks you two are adorable.”

Harper suddenly snaps her hands up, playing with the cocktail napkin her drink rests on. She pulls at the paper as her face glows in embarrassment.

“Monty,” Lexa raises her eyebrows at the young man. He sinks in on himself, hunching his shoulders as if that’s going to stop Lexa from hearing his thoughts. “You’re freaking out that I’m going to spill a dirty secret of yours. Relax buddy, no one here cares if you have a hydroponic garden growing some illegal plants with your roommate.” 

Monty looks down, avoiding everyone’s amused glares.

“And Clarke?”

Clarke grins and waits. _I love you._

Lexa bites her lip, and for a second, Clarke thinks she’s going to say it back. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it’d be thrilling to hear it out loud in their present company. Her heart skips a beat.

But then Lexa’s smirking. And it’s not that sweet smirk. It’s a wicked one. One that screams trouble, and Clarke’s eyes widen in anticipation. “You’re thinking about pencil skirts and how good I’d look in one.”

Clarke just knows how red her chest is. How it’s creeping up her neck, pinking her ears… And dammit. Now she really is thinking about Lexa in a grey pencil skirt. All that form-fitting fabric showing off a perfectly sculpted ass and legs that go on for-

“Boo.”

“What?” Lexa glares at Raven.

“You could have figured out all that stuff from context clues,” Raven dismisses with an unimpressed wave of her hand. “Everyone’s seen me checking out that gorgeous specimen. Marper over there is _so_ not subtle. Jasper is a snitch. And Clarke is always thinking about you in tight clothing.”

Lexa’s mouth drops open, and Clarke really can do nothing but laugh. “It was a good try, babe.” She gives Lexa’s tense and disbelieving shoulder a sympathy pat.

“It wasn’t a try,” she scoffs, crossing her arms like an indignant child. “That’s what you all were thinking!”

“She’s technically right,” Harper admits with a sheepish smile. She grabs Monty’s hand and holds it on top of the table for all to see. “I’ll give her the win.”

“Me too.” Monty nods and kisses the back of Harper’s hand. 

Clarke smiles at them. They really are adorable. Second cutest couple in this bar.

“That’s two against one, Raven,” Lexa smirks.

“Fine,” Raven gives a painful-looking smile and relents. “You win this round.”

“Speaking of rounds,” Clarke wiggles her eyebrows and pulls Lexa up from her seat. “We’ll be right back.”

Hand in hand, Clarke leads Lexa to the bar. She places their order, being sure to put it on Raven’s tab, and hops up on the only empty stool. Lexa weaves her lean arms around her middle and places a quick kiss to her cheek before resting her chin on Clarke’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe your obvious little trick went over better than my actual magic,” she mumbles into Clarke’s ear.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“You are.” Clarke turns around, being sure to keep Lexa’s arms encircled around her. She snakes her own up around Lexa’s neck. “But, it makes kissing you that much easier.”

And Clarke kisses her girlfriend for the millionth time since they started dating, and it’s just as amazing as she thought it’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my betas: the ever lovely, supportive, and all-around uhb @halffoolhalfempty and the new and invaluable @misscamomille. Y'all ease my frantic mind, and that is truly amazing.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and dropping comments! I hope y'all enjoyed it! 
> 
> Happy Clexa Week 2020!!!!


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